


Dancing

by Scandiaca



Series: A ticklish touch [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Tickling, Ticklish Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:31:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scandiaca/pseuds/Scandiaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlocks long limbs and wiry muscles were made for movement. For graceful arching and controlled turns. Simply put, Sherlock's body was made for dancing. But never, never in John's humble opinion had his detective danced better than on his tip toes, arms secured with chain and a sturdy ceiling hook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing

Sherlocks long limbs and wiry muscles were made for movement. For graceful arching and controlled turns. Simply put, Sherlock's body was made for dancing. But never, never in John's humble opinion had his detective danced better than on his tip toes, arms secured with chain and a sturdy ceiling hook. 

It started slow. In the beginning running his fingers in soft strokes along extended arms and legs was quite enough. John sighed and cooed and kissed the quivering flesh under his fingers. But they both wanted, no needed more than soft touches and comfortable strokes. With John standing behind his taller love, stretched taller still by the chain, his fingers turned wicked. 

They teased, they dug, they used in turn the softest and the hardest touch to have Sherlock positively dancing on his tip toes. His limbs tried to move away from those fingers practiced in surgical precision. But they were relentless, coaxing first gasps, then snorts, then giggles from the mouth of their victim. Soon, every touch of those fingers was met with a flinch, with a twist and a helpless whine before Sherlock shrieked, laughed, yes even yelled in his sweet agony. 

John never stayed in one spot too long. When he felt the arms of his love straining too hard to protect their pits, he slowly moved down to torturously count his ribs instead. And when Sherlock's thighs started to shake continuously, and his low body laugh came interspersed with painful breaths, the good doctor pressed his front against Sherlock's sweat slicked back. He pushed right against that extended wall of ticklish muscle and bones, and hugged his helpless detective from behind. And then, because John was far from finished and Sherlock knew how to make him stop, his fingers slowly, ever so slowly, slid towards the middle of Sherlock's belly. 

And there they stayed, wiggling and digging and teasing, as Sherlock giggled and twisted and danced on his toes in the loveliest movement John had ever seen.


End file.
